


on the train

by fernic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Whatever you call it, or the metro, the Tube, they meet on the underground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernic/pseuds/fernic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everywhere Kageyama looks, it's the same colors. Even the bright vibrant shades of neon signs and billboards are hidden behind a concealing layer of frost. Everything is dead, everything is colorless.</p><p>Kageyama fits right in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. none of my business

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter kagehina fic. It's the longest thing I've written and compared to the more well known writers it took me wayyyyy to long to finish this, but it's finally here.
> 
> The soulmate thing is very low-key. It's an alteration of the black and white to color one. Basically you can't see colors, but some things such as medication, some mental illnesses, and other thoughts will make you see color. Starting to see vibrant colors either means 1) you've met your soulmate and are with them or 2) you're gonna die.
> 
> Yeah, enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama barely registers the warm body crushed against his chest. He feels a wet patch forming on his shirt, though he doesn't know where it's from. Only when he looks down and sees the shoulders of the boy shaking violently does he realize that the kid is crying.
> 
> Crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “My ribcage cradles dirt and leaves, I’m empty inside”  
> -Nicole Dollangenger, _Barren_
> 
> ((in which Hinata is an ugly crier and Kageyama can't get that dumb sobbing shortie out of his head))

The morning is gray and dull, with blackened clouds covering the sky and smoke and pollution creating a heavy fog that sits in the air outside Kageyama's window. A small potted plant, long forgotten, is dipping. Its brown leaves are shriveled and the once pink budding flower is now sagging and slouching like it's in grief. Kageyama's alarm beeps, constant and annoying, but he makes no move to turn it off. The covers (also gray) that cover him surround him in a shelter of warmth, his body heat seeping into the fabric, and Kageyama can't find the will to get up and go to work like he does every day.

It's always the same- the gray mornings, the cold air that seeps into his pores, filling him up, the depression that sits itself in his chest, a rope wrapped and looped infinitely around and in and between his ribs in a giant knot that he can never seem to remove. It seems heavier today, for some odd reason, as if overnight a lump of lead was stuffed into his chest. His alarm clock still beeps, louder and faster until it is just one continuous ring. He reaches out and taps his phone screen; silence falls and the world is suddenly more gray than it was previously.

When Kageyama does get out of bed, it's freezing, as usual. His flannel pajama pants are thin, and a draft of cold air brushes through the fabric and against his skin, and Kageyama is regretting the choice he ever made to get up. But he continues anyways, limbs slow and lagging as he manages to get dressed (black jeans, v-neck shirt, long sleeve shirt over that, and a black sweater over that).

He's still cold, but it's more of a chill on the inside, something that he knows won't go away, no matter what he does. He walks to the kitchen, feeling the cold of the tile under the pads of his bare feet. He starts the coffee machine, and goes to the bathroom while it starts to brew.

In the mirror, he looks tired and miserable. His hair is ruffled and messy, and his mouth feels slimy and dirty. He takes a shower, standing still under the shower head while steaming water burns over his skin. Drops roll over and down his shoulders, down his neck, into the cracks between his lips, and even though he turned the shower knob all the way so that it _burns_ , even though he practically suffocates himself in clouds of steam, it does nothing to aid in kicking out that disgusting and horrible lump that's lodged inside of his chest.

When he steps outside, Kageyama feels like he can finally breathe. It's exhausting, to be stuck in that apartment alone (always alone).

In the pocket of his winter jacket (because yes, it is _that_ cold), Kageyama rubs his transit card between his fingers. His stomach is empty, save for the coffee, and Kageyama mentally scolds himself for forgetting to grab a breakfast bar or something on the way out the door.

He walks to the bus stop. The city sidewalks are riddled with cigarette butts and various food wrappers. Not many people, though. It's too early, daylight barely peeking over the tops of buildings and trees. The only ones out are the runners and the occasional homeless, along with a few business men that blend in with the polluted fog with the dark black and gray of their suits. 

Everywhere Kageyama looks, it's the same colors. Even the bright vibrant shades of signs and billboards are hidden behind a concealing layer of frost. Everything is dead, everything is colorless.

Kageyama fits right in.

|||

The train is something that Kageyama actually enjoys. 

It's fun, sometimes, especially in the night, when once a week a group of homeless drunks dressed in ridiculous hats and torn sweatshirts will appear and sing old songs, with makeshift harmonies to accompany the rattling of the change in the jar one of them holds out to everyone who watches.

(Kageyama always slips in a bill; it’s soundless, bouncing up and down but yet not making any sound. Makes him ask himself how something worth so much more be so invisible and soundless.)

In the mornings, though, the train is bleak, coming to a stop at the underground and bringing with it a musky smell that Kageyama can never quite remove from his clothing (cigarettes and murky water, Kageyama thinks.)

The train travels below the earth, for the most part, underneath Tokyo's raging buildings and traffic jams and it is always, always busy. It is full of people who never stop moving, who bump into Kageyama when he's traveling home, who push and shove and press against him when the train lurches forward, their breath the only warm thing he feels against his skin.

When he was younger, it bothered him to feel people exhaling their breath down his neck. Now that he's taller- usually a good few centimeters taller than most people he encounters- it isn't that bothersome; he’s the one breathing down on other people’s skin. 

(It helps. To feel the breath, the shuffling, the bumps and turns in the dark tunnels. It reminds him that he is alive, that the earth is pulsing just like every heartbeat that surrounds him; it makes him feel like they beat in time with his own.)

Waiting for the train is something he doesn’t really mind. Usually, Kageyama brings his headphones and listens to whatever plays from his phone on shuffle. Sometimes the music helps lift his spirits a little. Mostly, it does nothing but help pass the time.

He forgot his headphones today, and the seconds inch by slowly.

Standing where he is now, Kageyama can feel the wind pick up, the turbine that comes with the trains rushing down through the tunnel, and it whirs in his ears, making them ring and fill his head with a buzz.

Something in his chest lifts. His feet step past the line of the platform. The idea of death surrounds him and all of the sudden his world is full of color, the brightness of the yellow hazard line before the track sips down, the colors of the clothes everyone is wearing, the vibrant graffiti on the walls of the platform.

(He could jump, soar into the darkness and see the light when it comes and finally force that heaviness inside of him to lift itself out of him. _He could jump_ -)

The underground is brightened when the headlights of the train round the corner of the tunnel, and he stays where he is. The squeaky brakes of the train make him wince, and soon the train comes to a full stop before him. It's dirty, and the aged silver metal is cold to the touch as he walks to the sliding doors.

Inside, it's crowded. Kageyama looks around for a relatively empty place to stand. It isn't that hard- all he does is stare straight ahead and people tend to avoid his disgustingly scary glare.

He ends up standing right next to the door, hand gripping the back of the chair next to him.

When the monotone voice comes over the head speakers, announcing to step away from the doors, a lot of things happen.

There's a yell, an echoed noise that makes even the ones with headphones look up. The doors are slowly shutting, and Kageyama looks out the window, and he sees orange.

(The lingering effect of his almost-suicide, he thinks. That’s the only reason why he is still seeing some color right now)

Bright, fiery hair is sprinting down the stairs and the boy it belongs to _jumps_ (flies) into the air and lands a few feet away from the closing doors of the train. Everyone watches, wide eyed, as the boy runs and slips through the crack of the doors, right into the crowd, and right into Kageyama, as a result.

Kageyama barely registers the warm body crushed against his chest. He feels a wet patch forming on his shirt, though he doesn't know where it's from. Only when he looks down and sees the shoulders of the boy shaking violently does he realize that the kid is crying.

Crying.

"Sorry," he wails, and Kageyama doesn't move, doesn't speak, because everything is stuck in his throat. The boy pulls back (not too far, though. Everyone's pressing close together, too much people in a too small space) (It makes Kageyama want to throw up and melt all at the same time).

Kageyama finally looks at him, tear steaks and wobbling bottom lip and all. He's small, tiny and still crying hysterically, tear drops falling off his cheeks and making wet patches in the pale yellow sweater that he wears. It's too big for him, Kageyama thinks. He's looking up, hesitant, and Kageyama realizes that he's waiting for an answer, for Kageyama to reassure him that it's okay he just ran right into him full force. 

Kageyama just nods, steps as far away as the crowds will let him to give him space, and says nothing more. The darkness of the tunnel outside the train window has suddenly grown more interesting.

"I'm Hinata." His voice is thick and hoarse, as if he's been screaming or yelling. Or maybe he's been crying for a while.

Kageyama looks over, eyebrows raised. The boy is bright red now. He's wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweater, spreading some snot on the fabric. It shouldn't be cute, it should make Kageyama feel disgusted, but it doesn't.

(It makes something pulse, something beneath the heavy weight of the lead and the rope, something Kageyama forgot he even had. Makes his feet tingle a little bit and he has to look down to reassure himself he's on solid ground.)

"Okay," Kageyama says finally, and Hinata takes a deep breath, sniffling and trying to wipe his eyes with a crumpled up napkin he pulls from his pocket.

"Does it look like I've been crying?" He asks, and Kageyama just stares. Shrugs. Looks away and pretends he doesn't hear Hinata start sobbing again.

|||

It continues. Over and over, Kageyama will wake up to face a dull world, gray and cold. He basically wears the same thing: same jeans until something spills on them, same sweater with its loose threads and holes. He doesn't have the will to do anything, to convince himself to do something other than get up out of bed and swallow a few pills with coffee that scorches his throat. It's all he can get himself to do, these days.

Some things do change, though.

The red hair is always with him in the mornings, and it’s strange. Though his depression is getting a bit worse, so maybe that’s why his colors are starting to pop up. Kageyama sees Hinata every day at his platform. Sometimes he's staring intensively at his phone, sometimes he's crying into his large sweater, sometimes he's just _there_ , sitting on the bench and staring straight ahead into the darkness of the tracks, picking at his nails with nervous hands.

It bothers Kageyama, for some annoyingly unknown reason. It annoys him because of all people, Hinata doesn't belong in the disgusting, dirty underground where people like Kageyama go. Kageyama deserves to ride the crowded train downtown everyday; he deserves the shitty smell and icky feeling it puts on his skin.

Hinata doesn't. He's too bright, even when he's sobbing, pushing his hand to his face and stuffing that stupid sweater over his mouth to try to muffle his cries. His eyes are too bright, sometimes even more so when he's crying, Kageyama thinks. His hair is too orange, too wild the way it sticks up in different directions.

(Once, it rains, and his hair isn't plastered to his scalp like Kageyama thought it would be. Instead, it's all in the air even more than before, frizzy and dripping water on Kageyama's shoes when they both get on the train; Kageyama pretends not to notice it, and Hinata just sniffs and whimpers the entire ride.)

The point is that Kageyama knows that Hinata doesn't deserve whatever is happening to him right now. Whatever pushes him to ride the train every day, whatever makes him cry at least halfway through the long ride to the downtown. Whatever is making him turn into something as dull as Kageyama. He shouldn’t be crying, shouldn’t be on this stupid train to begin with, and shouldn’t look at Kageyama as much as he does. People like Hinata don’t belong with people like Kageyama. People like Hinata belong with bright people, someone who will hold them tight when he cries, and someone who smiles wide without looking like a sociopath. People like Hinata deserve someone who will drive them, and prevent them from going on the train.

People like Hinata deserve anyone but the people like Kageyama.

It’s something he knows for a fact, as simple as rain falling, as easily understood as the fact that Hinata will always wear that same, pale yellow sweater everyday.

It’s easy to understand, but for some reason, Kageyama feels worse when he tries to accept it.

|||

 

When he was little, Kageyama had a friend.

They were odd, the two of them; they liked to stay inside with remote-control trains and cars rather than go outside and ride bikes with other boys, but Kageyama didn’t mind. He stayed with him, listened to the whirring of the motors inside the various vehicles that the he controlled.

His name was Akio. He was smart, analytical, and the oldest of them and always reminding him of it too. 

Akio had a train, one with tracks that you could move around and set into whatever pattern you wanted. The train would go anywhere, as long as the track was beneath it.

Kageyama would sit, sometimes, on his stomach, and Akio would form a circle of tracks around him. The train would orbit him, around and around, until one of the wheels eventually slipped off the tracks and crashed to the floor.

“Shoot, looks like we gotta reset it. Right, Tobio?” Akio would always say, and Kageyama would just watch while Akio gathered up the train, resetting it and making it move again. The colors were all gray, back then, but with Akio, things seemed a little bit brighter.

Thinking about it now, Kageyama thinks it all makes sense. He’s gotten out of his orbit, crashed to the floor like the toy train, unable to move, unable to continue.

But this time, there’s no one who can pick him up and set him on the right path.

|||

Kageyama misses the train, so he walks.

It's colder, without all the bodies confined in the same space. Tokyo’s streets are still filled, but the wind wipes away and trace of body heat that people leave as they reach their destinations. Kageyama’s destination is a long way from here, and he's already numb.

He passes cafes and groups of laughing girls and one guy struggling with several dog leashes attached to his arm. He pays them no mind, just stares straight ahead and keeps walking. He tries to think of what he needs: toothpaste, laundry detergent, cereal (the off-brand kind with the sugar on top that makes him remember home).

Except it doesn't work. His thoughts turn from his grocery list to wild orange hair and eyes brimmed with tears. He can't stop himself from thinking about Hinata, the crying boy who he doesn't even know, who ran into him and sobbed into his shirt and stared into nothingness. 

Honestly, he's been thinking of Hinata a lot lately. 

Like when he gets to the restaurant he works at, waiting tables and filling glasses and delivering food to anxious customers. Sometimes he thinks he hears Hinata, crying, but it's just a little kid. 

It's unfair, he thinks. No one should be stuck in someone's mind when you've barely spoke a single word to them.

That night, when Kageyama’s walking home, he takes the small roads, ones that aren't filled like the main streets. It's a shortcut, one that Kageyama takes when he just wants to leave his mind and stop thinking about everything.

When he wants to stop thinking about Hinata.

But then he's there. Hinata.

He tight against the chest of someone, a taller and silent someone. Light hair that reflects the streetlights and he can see the bigger body hugging Hinata so tight Kageyama thinks he might explode.

“I'm sorry,” Kageyama thinks he hears when he passes them, and he can hear Hinata crying. Again.

But it's different. They are sobs that come from giving up, frustration and hatred. Kageyama thinks he’s putting it all together, now.

|||

The next day, Kageyama takes the train.

Hinata doesn't.

|||

Weeks pass and Kageyama feels like he's missing something. He often does think this, the piece of him that's clouded over by his depression. But this certain something is different.

Kageyama's not an idiot. He knows he misses Hinata, with his stupid crying and stupid hair. The only good thing happening is that colors are getting duller again, which is a good sign. Means his brain is functioning, sedated with medication that is supposed to help him.

It's a Friday, the last day of work before Kageyama gets his day off, when orange appears again. Hinata.

He's not crying. He's smiling, wearing something other than that stupid sweater. A striped shirt, black and white and making his hair pop against his clothes.

Kageyama looks. He can't help himself, not when his heart is beating faster than it was before. Kageyama stares for a while, and eventually, Hinata looks back.

And he smiles. At Kageyama. And Kageyama almost dies of a heart attack.

(His eyes glisten, and Kageyama sees how they’re amber colored, something he must not have noticed before. They crinkle at the edges and Kageyama wants to tell him that unless he wants wrinkles, he should tone it down. But he doesn't, because it's the prettiest thing Kageyama has ever seen, and who is he to tell the most precious thing to stop existing?)

When he gets off the train, Kageyama knows he is fucked.

||| 

Saturdays are always crowded. 

(Everyday is always crowded, but it feels like Saturday is the worst.)

Kageyama gets on the train, and Hinata gets on next to him. There are no seats, so they stand, together, but also not together. _We don’t even know each other_ , Kageyama has to remind himself. Kageyama reaches up and grabs hold of the bar on the top of the train for balance, and Hinata holds on to the back of a seat where a little old woman sits.

When the train lurches forward, deep into the dark tunnels, Hinata loses his balance and bumps into him, hips slotted with Kageyama’s. It only lasts for a second, but it makes Kageyama want to punch himself and throw Hinata off the train and pull him closer all at the same time. _Stupid, dumbass, idiot-_

“You never told me your name,” a voice says, and it takes Kageyama a little more than a second to realize it's Hinata talking. His voice sounds different when it isn't thick with tears.

Kageyama tries to speak but his words are stuck in his throat, lodged in tight and preventing him from breathing right. The feeling of Hinata pressed up against him is repeating through his mind, and he wants to bang his head against the wall because _this shouldn’t be happening_.

"You don't need to know," he answers finally, and it's the truth, because Hinata doesn't need the useless knowledge of knowing Kageyama's name; Kageyama doesn’t _want_ him to know. Kageyama should be a blurred face that he sees on the opposite end of the train, a tall guy with dark hair and a brooding face, not an acquaintance that Hinata wastes his time with.

"But I want to," he says, and he turns around and smiles. Kageyama can see the little freckles splattered over the slope of Hinata’s nose. 

He breathes deep and says, “I’m Kageyama.”

And Hinata smiles, all genuine and maybe a bit mischievous, or daring, if Kageyama were to look for a little longer than he allows himself to. The train jerks, and they are shifted together again. Kageyama feels something inside of him like a flower blooming, and since when have the seats on this train been blue?

“I like that,” Hinata says softly. He turns back around, leaving Kageyama to wonder what, exactly, Hinata likes.

(His name? Being pressed against him? Both?)

Hinata gets off at the stop before Kageyama’s. He waves goodbye, smiles, and when Kageyama just stares back, he sticks out his tongue and scrunches up his nose nose before turning and running away, as if Kageyama would dash after him.

And maybe he would have, if the doors didn't close as fast as they did, and if he were in a love story.

Maybe.

But they do close, and he’s sure he isn’t meant to be in a love story, so he doesn’t. 

Instead, he gets off at the platform he’s supposed to and roams the streets of Tokyo aimlessly. He didn’t really need to leave his apartment, but he knew that he had to. Staying in was dangerous, led him to submitting to the feeling of helplessness, of growing comfortable in being alone, or being unwanted. In the outside world, he was forced to bump into people, forced to stomp down on the depression that he struggled with, forced to take care of himself.

Besides, days off work were actually kinda sort of fun. Because when he has off, he gets to sit in the park, watch people walk their dogs, and maybe eat a pastry from the bakery he passes by. Sometimes he’ll stay until the sun sets, and he’ll stare at the orange glow in the sky- the only color he can really distinguish from the duller pinks and yellows and purples that mush together- and think of Hinata’s hair, of the way he gleams, bright and shining, a challenge to the sun itself. Kageyama can’t help but think of how opposite he and Hinata are. He, with the dull pains that linger in his chest. Him, with the light that radiates off his skin. Kageyama reminds himself not to stare at Hinata anymore. It’s bad for your eyes, to look straight at the sun.

The sunset is over, but it’s still bright in the city. Apartment lights shine through thin curtains, and the headlights of cars help illuminate the roads. A small part of Kageyama misses the darkness and the silence in his hometown, the way he would sit awake and listen to crickets outside his window; sometimes he swore they were right beside him, lulling their music into his ear as a lullaby. They were so loud, and when he was little, he would look for them; he never found any. He yearns for the way darkness was so easily achieved, and how he could actually see the stars, not just a dimly illuminated vast of space in the sky, so full of nothing. 

Kageyama walks past a few homeless men and women, all of whom hold out their cups for change when he walks by. He drops a few yen in each one. There isn't anything special about walking home, just the loud sounds of the city that fill his head, and the cold air that makes him feel like a ghost. 

He wishes he were taking the train.

He wishes he could see Hinata.

When he finally does reach his apartment, he takes a hot shower to wash off all the cold that lingers on his skin. And then he thinks about Hinata, with his dumb smile and soft looking hair and for fucks sake they hadn't even had a proper conversation but Kageyama is still beginning to feel something boil beneath his skin. In his chest, his heartbeat is erratic, and he wonders what it would feel like to touch Hinata’s hair, to trace his smiling lips with the tip of his finger, to feel him again, pressed against him like he was in the train.

He spends the rest of his shower under cold water.

|||

“Good morning, Kageyama-kun.”

Kageyama looks to his side. Then behind him. Then he looks down.

“Oh. Hi, Hinata,” he says, and the words flow so easily off his tongue that it leaves some satisfying feeling in his chest. 

Hinata gives a small smile. He’s dressed warmly, the hood of his sweatshirt (yellow) poking out from the winter jacket he has over (black). His jeans are tight around his thighs. Kageyama looks away and wishes he hadn't noticed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders what it must look like, a small guy who honestly still looks like a high school student, talking and smiling with someone like him, who glares and scowls and probably looks like death. 

Probably very weird, he concludes.

“Kageyama.” Hinata draws out the end of his name, and Kageyama looks back down.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you worked in the city. You're always taking the train, and always look really tired, so I’m think you work late nights? Oh, or maybe you're, like, a spy or something? An undercover cop? The king of some unknown society under our feet and that's why you always take the underground and-”

“Waiter. I’m a waiter, idiot,” Kageyama interrupts, and he immediately wishes he could pull those words back into his mouth. He’s being rude, to the one person who actually gives him the time of day and-

Hinata laughs, light and loud and yeah, it causes a few stares and turned heads, but Kageyama doesn't even care anymore, because _Hinata is laughing_ , and he’ll be damned if he were to stop something as revolutionary as that.

“I feel like we've known each other for longer than, well, months,” Hinata says, and Kageyama shakes his head.

“It hasn't been months. We've only spoken three times,” he says. “Besides, I would remember someone like you.”

“Oh, really?” Hinata hums, and he arches one eyebrow, lips quirked up on one side and Kageyama realizes he would be better off never speaking again.

He doesn't. Not speak, that is.

“Your hair. It's, like, orange.” God just kill him already.

Hinata laughs, and he sways, easily steadying himself with a hand reached up on Kageyama’s shoulder. It’s a warm weight on his skin, and unlike the usual heaviness that sits inside of him, he wouldn't mind feeling this all the time. 

“Thank you, though you don’t look like you’re dying,” Hinata says, and the train starts to slow. Hinata stands up a little straighter, and Kageyama steps back a little, allows him room to get off. On the platform, Hinata waves, and Kageyama gives a small wave back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all chapter names are being taken from the song "Boy on a Train" by Vance gilbert.
> 
> Personal note: this took way to long to fucking write. the entire fic is finished but I'm still tweaking stuff at the end, next update will be soon.


	2. like crazy rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s really dumb, actually, how Kageyama all of the sudden feels better with Hinata like this. It makes him angry beyond belief, because this is what he’s missing. This floating feeling, his stomach dropping and picking itself back up again, his body tuned to every little movement Hinata makes against him. It’s freeing, almost, to feel like he has no control over his happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I said, I prefer the ocean when it’s gray. Or not really gray. A pale, in-between color. It reminds me of waiting for something good to happen."  
> \- Lauren Oliver, _Delirium_
> 
> ((Hinata's brain hates him and Kageyama is a cutie))

It rains, and Kageyama isn’t prepared.

Hinata is, though.

When Kageyama stumbles down the stairs to the underground, hair soaked and jacket clinging to his shoulders, the first thing he sees it Hinata, who is standing, leaning on an umbrella and removing the hood of his red rain coat. He’s cute, and Kageyama instantly decides he’ll be better off walking downtown in the rain that being forced to have to look at Hinata right now because it’s _too cute_ and _fuck_ he shouldn’t be thinking like this.

And he’s ready to turn around, to walk back up the stairs when there's a little gasp and then Hinata is calling his name.

Shit.

“Kageyama! Woah, you’re all wet,” Hinata states, and Kageyama glares.

“No shit, dumbass,” he grumbles, and Hinata rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m the dumbass. You’re the one who didn’t check the weather, Bakageyama.”

“What did you just call me, you-”

“Anyways,” Hinata continues, sliding forward a bit as the train approaches. “I’ll walk with you to work!”

Kageyama stares.

“J-just so you don’t get wet, that’s all,” Hinata rushes to say. Suddenly, the people leaving the train seem much more interesting to watch. “There are colors around, which means you could get hurt by yourself!”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, slowly, as if it's a word he's never used before. And Hinata nods, giving a huff of air and turning back around and keeping his gaze there as he steps into the train. Kageyama keeps his eyes on the back of Hinata’s head.

Hinata’s hair is unnaturally charming. It's bright, a little darker at the roots, but not enough for Kageyama to believe it’s dyed. Strands stick up, curling in every direction, and honestly, it looks like he just walked out if a windstorm, or something. There are small little hairs at the nape of his neck, curling up and barely visible. Kageyama has the strong, intense urge to reach out and brush his fingers through them.

Hinata’s right, there are a lot of colors. He can see the complete uniform of the group of students that are sitting next to each other, their plaid skirts a series of different shades of black and blue. He can see the neon colors of the screen that shows the various stations and the time left to wait until the next platform. Everything is bright, filled with so many colors and the names are popping into his head without him wanting them too. He looks at Hinata and no longer sees gray skin, not it’s a creamy peach color, and Kageyama wants to run his fingers over it.

He clenches his hands in his pockets. 

After a few more minutes, the train comes to a stop at Kageyama’s platform. People all around him rush to get off, leaving him in a swirl of color, and the feeling of Hinata pushed against his side. He clenches the sleeve of Kageyama’s jacket as they walk out surrounded by a sea of bodies, and it makes his stomach drop to his feet. Once out of the way of the crowds, Hinata breathes.

“I hate crowds. Everyone breathes down your neck, though I guess you don't have to deal with that,” he says, and Kageyama shrugs.

“Just grow a few inches.”

“ _’Just grow a few inches’_ ” Hinata imitates, rolling his eyes. “That's what every tall person says, as if it's easy to get taller; as if I can just chant a few words and suddenly shoot up ten centimeters.”

“It is easy. Just drink milk,” Kageyama mumbles. They’re leaving the underground, and Hinata pulls him to the side of the staircase, fumbling with his umbrella. It’s green, a color Kageyama only saw when he was racing across the street when he was five and a car swerved to avoid him. For a second, he saw the bright green of his grass before it faded back into a duller, grayer version of itself. 

“ _Blegh_. I don't like milk,” Hinata says, nose wrinkling up in disgust. It’s unbearably cute. Kageyama looks away immediately.

“Enjoy being short then.”

The umbrella finally opens, and Hinata swings it over his head. Then he looks at Kageyama, and hands it to him.

“You gotta hold it, otherwise you'd have to duck under,” he says, and Kageyama takes the umbrella with a nod.

It wasn't meant for two people. Kageyama knows this because Hinata’s shoulder is brushing against his side and he's _still_ complaining about getting his other shoulder wet (he’s wearing a raincoat, for fucks sake). The rain is heavy, fat drops hammering down on the umbrella and into puddles. Kageyama’s socks are soaked through, and they still have a block or two until he reaches his workplace.

It takes only six more steps after Kageyama’s previous outburst of telling Hinata to shut the fuck up and stop complaining already, when Hinata whimpers again.

“I just got these shoes, and now they’re dirty with city water and-”

“Hinata, I swear to every god out there, if you don’t shut the hell up I’ll-” he stops himself.

“Hm? Do what?” Hinata asks, smirking a little, and Kageyama is about to push him into the road, to show him _exactly_ what he’ll do-

Hinata’s smile disappears, and he stops, and Kageyama doesn’t really know what he did. They stand in the middle of the sidewalk, and Kageyama realizes that his arm is around Hinata’s shoulders, pulling him tight against him. He looks away, takes a step and drops his hand.

“I’m going to be late.” is all he says, and Hinata straightens up and breaks away from his daze before nodding and agreeing that yes, they should hurry up because if Kageyama loses this job, he doesn’t know if anyone else will hire him with that “freaky glare thing” he has going on.

(Kageyama: “It’s my _face_.”)

And so just like that, no questions asked, Hinata lets Kageyama keep him pressed tightly against his side, squished together under an umbrella that was never meant to be shared, Hinata stepping in what seems like every single puddle they pass and making the bottom of Kageyama’s jeans wet. Kageyama grumbles about it, but he doesn’t really care. His side is warm from where Hinata is practically attached, and his heart is buzzing in his ears and he finds that he’s standing up straighter, letting his shoulders drop in a relaxed way instead of rigid and tense like they usually are, and he just feels better.

It’s really dumb, actually, how Kageyama all of the sudden feels better with Hinata like this. It makes him angry beyond belief, because this is what he’s missing. This floating feeling, his stomach dropping and picking itself back up again, his body tuned to every little movement Hinata makes against him. It’s freeing, almost, to feel like he has no control over his happiness. He thinks dying right now would be okay, because he’d like to see all of the colors with Hinata pressed up against him like this.

They show up at the restaurant all too quickly. There’s nothing really special about it, just a sushi place, full of city-goers and the occasional tourist family (not that Kageyama ever takes their orders. He’s horrible at english). He hesitates for too long and Hinata asks him if this is the place.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, and again, he counts to five before stepping away, into the rain. It’s not as heavy of a downpour now, just a drizzle that settles in his hair and who knows, if it makes him look better then maybe he’ll get bigger tips.

“Okay, well, um.” Hinata seems to have lost all his words, and Kageyama is quick to fill the silence.

“Thank you, for helping me not get soaked,” he says, and Hinata gives a little breath of a laugh.

“No problem, Kageyama. Have fun at work!” And then he turns around, walking away with a little bounce in his step and Kageyama watches (admires) until he’s crossing the street before he pushes through the restaurant doors because it’s still raining, his hair is beginning to drip, and he really doesn’t want to be scolded for being wet.

“Oi, Kageyama! Why the hell are you soaked?!”

God damn it.

|||

(Later that night, when Kageyama opens the door to leave, he sees Hinata. Waiting. Outside. For him. It makes him freeze and Hinata hasn’t really noticed him yet, too fixated in a conversation with another one of Kageyama’s coworkers, smiling with wide eyes and moving hands. Then he turns around and jumps a little and Kageyama thinks he’s a shooting star, an asteroid flying through the air because he’s so energized and so bright and there’s nothing that perfectly describes exactly how Hinata is, right now.

The color purple flashes bright behind him in the form of an ad on the side of a building.

When they walk to the underground, they walk together, close like they were under the umbrella, even though it isn’t raining.)

|||

It becomes normal for Hinata to walk Kageyama to work every day.

He didn’t really plan on it, not really. All he knows is that walking with Kageyama to work when it was raining turned into walking with him on Mondays, and he kept adding more days until he just decided fuck it, he might as well just give in to the strange desire to walk Kageyama to work.

Besides, it wasn’t really a bad thing. Sure, Kageyama’s possibly the biggest dickface he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, but it doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t like him. Because sometimes Kageyama will surprise him with random acts of kindness, like paying for a snack for him, or giving him a tissue if he has a runny nose, and that one time Kageyama gave Hinata his sweatshirt after he complained about the train being cold.

(He still has it. Kageyama hasn’t asked for it back.) (Hinata secretly hopes he never does. He likes the shade of blue it is.)

Anyways, the point is that Hinata likes Kageyama, and he’s gotten pretty close to him, even though they’ve only really been actively speaking and hanging out for a little over three months.

So he doesn’t hesitate when Kageyama asks, “Hey, are we friends?”

“Of course we are, idiot. I wouldn’t go out of my way and walk just anybody to and from work, you know.”

Kageyama nods. He’s folding his apron in the small employee room in the back of the restaurant. Hinata waits by leaning against the wall, looking away as Kageyama slips out of the black work shirt and into his regular clothes. He can still see the shoulder blades in the corner of his eye, the muscles that span over Kageyama’s entire back, shifting and moving beneath his skin. Hinata huffs out a breath of air in annoyance, and some hair that has fallen in front of his face lifts up.

“Why are you asking?” He says, and Kageyama shrugs.

“No reason, just wanted to know,” he answers and Hinata groans.

“Why are you so difficult?” he mumbles, and he doesn’t get an answer. He didn’t really expect one anyways.

They walk back to the underground, Hinata talking about how he’s going to visit his family once he gets a break from university, and how he can’t wait to see his little sister, and has she grown taller? He hopes so, because-

“Come over.”

Hinata stops. His eyes widen and his mouth hangs open, and he probably looks really stupid right now but it's hard to get himself back together because _did he just ask-?_

“It's just, well, we’re friends, and I don't have many of those, as you could probably tell. If you wanna eat dinner at my place, or something, I’m saying that you're welcome to,” Kageyama rushes, and Hinata has to turn his head to stop his smile because Kageyama is red and blushing- something he’s never really seen before- and his lip quivers when he’s embarrassed. Hinata has never seen anything as adorable as Kageyama’s face in this moment.

His body feels strangely lighter.

“Kageyama, we haven't even exchanged phone numbers,” he says. He tries to stuff down the laughter that threatens to explode from his chest.

“W-we can do that too, dumbass!”

“What? Don't call me a dumbass, dumbass! Now you don't get my phone number.”

“Fine! I don't want it anyways,” Kageyama mumbles, and Hinata bites his lip to stop the smile that pulls at his lips.

“But you are still having me over. You owe me a good dinner for that insult,” he says, tugging Kageyama’s sleeve toward the direction of the underground. Kageyama doesn’t object, instead just lets himself be directed to the train, and all the while, Hinata’s heart is swelling in his chest.

“I only have instant ramen.” Kageyama says once they're on the train, leaning down to whisper in Hinata’s ear, because the homeless singers are here, their coin jar and loud songs filling the train with sound and smiles. Kageyama’s breath is warm on his skin, and Hinata’s back straightens and he’s frozen for a second. Over Kageyama’s shoulders, the green of an emergency sign starts to brighten, and he forces himself to look away.

“That's fine,” he squeaks, and he can still feel the breath ghosting over his ear, even though Kageyama has stood up straight again.

It haunts him for the rest of the ride.

|||

“It's nothing special,” Kageyama says as he opens the door, but Hinata is too caught up in the fact that he's actually going to be seeing Kageyama’s apartment that he doesn't really care about it not being clean or perfect, or whatever else Kageyama is worried about.

He gets to see Kageyama’s life: the table he sits at and the television he watches. The bed he sleeps in and the windows he looks out of. There's something oddly intimate about being in the space that someone else does every day.

Kageyama’s walls are white. Bland and boring, Hinata would describe it as if it were anyone else, but with Kageyama, it’s kind of fitting. The apartment is large, for Tokyo at least. The door opens right into a small, short hallway, which leads right into a miniature kitchen with a small table squished against the far wall. Hinata can see the bedroom from where he stands in the doorway, the door is slid open a crack to reveal an unmade futon on the floor. 

Another room, but this one more open, acts as a living room. There's a television stacked on books, a love seat the color of midnight blue (another color Hinata has never seen before), and a coffee table in the middle, covered with sports magazines and empty glasses and the remote. Hinata immediately goes over to it, and plops himself down, legs curling over the armrest of the couch and his head resting on the cushion.

“This is really nice,” he sighs. Kageyama just grunts in response. Hinata can hear cabinets opening, and some shuffling and banging. He sits up and watched Kageyama take out a pot and fill it watch water. He rests it on the stovetop and turns the knob. 

“It'll take a few minutes to boil,” Kageyama says as he walks over to the couch. He sits on the other side of the couch, and Hinata realizes how close his head is to Kageyama’s lap. It would only take one small adjustment for him to rest his head in his lap. Hinata moves a little forward, away from Kageyama's thighs so he doesn’t give in to the temptation. 

“The volleyball game is on for college nationals. Wanna watch?” He asks after a few moments of silence, and Kageyama nods. Hinata turns his head, facing the television and watches. He talks during the breaks, and Kageyama mutes the commercials and listens. He talks when he gets up to prepare the food.

Hinata learns a lot, that night. He listens over his second bowl of ramen, chopsticks a blur as he shovels the noodles into his mouth (Kageyama: “Stop eating like a pig.” Hinata:“ Shut up, Bakageyama!”)

He knows that Kageyama lives alone, he likes to watch volleyball, and he doesn’t get sick. He learns that Kageyama’s favorite part of the day is riding the train. 

(Hinata teases him for that, says that of course it’s his favorite part of the day, since Kageyama gets to see him every day. Kageyama ponders and declares that now it’s his _least_ favorite part of the day. Hinata leans over the table and hits him upside the head.)

He knows a lot. Like how Kageyama is an ass, but probably for good reasons, given his awkwardness at the question about his childhood friends. He knows that Kageyama doesn’t mind his job, is thinking about going back to school sometime in the near future, maybe to be a physical therapist, or a coach, something like that. There’s a question burning in the back of Hinata’s mind, one that he knows he probably shouldn’t ask, but it’s already there, coming out of his mouth.

“Have you seen your colors? Like all of them all at once?”

Kageyama’s quiet, blinking and setting down his empty bowl, and Hinata can feel his face burning up. It’s an intimate question, because you only get to see all your colors if you’ve met your soulmate, or have been close enough to death that they all popped up.

“No,” he says, and Hinata can’t read the tone. It isn’t sad, or happy either. It’s like he’s stating a fact, monotone and uncaring. Hinata changes the subject quickly while Kageyama takes both their dishes to the sink.

Soon, it’s midnight, and Hinata is yawning into his hand. He’s laying on Kageyama’s bed (Kageyama: “I’m trying to save money, do you know how expensive mattresses are?”), the thin futon spread on the floor, and he can smell Kageyama on the sheets. It makes something in his chest warm up, makes his toes curl as a smile spreads across his face under his hand.

“You can spend the night. It’s dangerous to use the train at night, especially cause you’re… small,” Kageyama says. He’s sitting at his desk, shuffling through bills or something. Hinata is too tired to fight him on the comment, and instead he takes his socks off, fluffing the pillow and hugging it against his chest as he sits up. He watches Kageyama work, the side of his face as he reads and turns the pages and flips through papers, eyebrows knitted; Hinata wants to rub his thumb over the little folds it makes on his forehead. 

Kageyama looks attractive when he focuses, he’s not going to lie. His chin rests in his hand, and every so often, his tongue will run over his lips. It makes Hinata’s stomach flutter. Kageyama leans back, head tossed back as he stretches his arms above his head and Hinata can’t help but stare at how his sweatshirt is riding up and his throat is exposed. His skin is light, muscular in a way that hints at past athleticism, and Hinata’s brain must hate him, because he thinks about running his tongue over that skin, of feeling the muscles quiver underneath his tongue and Hinata pushes his face into the pillow in his lap and _groans_ because that thought is too much right now.

“If you’re tired, go to sleep.”

Hinata looks up, face flushed and pillow tight against his chest. 

“Sorry, Kageyama, I’ll let you continue,” He says thickly, and Kageyama rolls his eyes. Hinata moves to get up, to go to the couch and leave before he can think of any other dirty thoughts about Kageyama because there is _no fucking way_ he’s going to-

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asks, and Hinata turns around.

“Going to the couch,” he states, as if it’s obvious. 

“Why? Just take my bed. I’m not going to be sleeping for a while anyways, there’s no point in you getting neck cramps on that thing if there’s a perfectly good bed for you to use,” he says, and Hinata bites his bottom lip before sitting back down on the futon. He lays down, pulling the covers over him. It’s a little uncomfortable, with the jeans he’s wearing, but there is no way he’s going to strip down to his boxers with Kageyama in the room.

He relaxes with the pillow still hugged against his chest, eyes half lidded and watching as Kageyama continues his work. It’s calming, the flips of the papers, and soft sighs that occasionally leave Kageyama, the creaking of the chair. The city is quiet tonight, a rare occurrence, and Hinata is being lulled to sleep by Kageyama, by the scent of his sheets (lilac, and that clean-linen smell), by the sounds of his room, by his mere presence. He’s so caught up, that he almost doesn’t hear what Kageyama says.

“What’s that?” he asks softly, eyes closing with a flutter.

“I said, why were you crying?” Kageyama’s voice is soft, and Hinata can barely hear him. “At the station, on the train, for a near two months before you stopped. Remember?”

Hinata remembers, he doesn’t need clarification. He’s too tired to focus on evading the question, to push down the sinking feeling that suddenly devours him. He’s silent as he thinks, and all of the sudden, very awake. He can feel his eyes start to burn.

“Nevermind, forget I even asked-”

“It was after a breakup.”

Kageyama is quiet, and Hinata rolls over, facing the bare wall. His knees curl up into his chest and he takes a breath.

“I was dumped and cheated on, and it kinda sucked. No, it really sucked. Especially after, like, a year? Yeah, a year and five months, really close to the sixth month, too. That’s why,” he says. 

“Was it his sweater? The yellow one?” Kageyama asks quietly.

“Yeah, if that’s what the color was,” Hinata whispers. He pushes his face into the pillow and breathes in deep. He feels the tiniest bit better. Maybe it’s the smell of Kageyama, or maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t afraid of the confrontation any more. He expected it, because you can’t really cry and breakdown in front of someone every day for weeks and not expect to be asked about it. And he knew it was coming, but he hoped that maybe it would take a little longer for the question to come out.

Kageyama is quiet, and he isn’t doing anything. Hinata can tell because his chair doesn’t squeak and the pages don’t turn; he can’t even hear the sound of Kageyama breathing. Everything is silent, and Hinata is starting the wish he had lied, said that his dog had died, or something. He really doesn’t want the awkward apologies he usually gets from others, as if it was their fault that his heart was broken, or that he dedicated almost one and a half years of his life to someone who wasn’t even his soulmate and cheated on him.

“And it isn’t even the fact that he cheated. I just felt so alone, like when you see a bee in a pool. Everyone just watches it, you know? No one picks it up and lets it breathe, they just watch it drown,” he says, and he pushes his face further into the pillow. Kageyama still doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s okay, he wasn’t even my soulmate,” Hinata whispers, and he isn’t sure if he’s telling this as a reassurance to himself or Kageyama. Both, he decides.

It’s still so quiet, and Hinata falls asleep.

|||

Kageyama doesn’t think after Hinata falls asleep, only knows that he suspected it. Hell, he’s pretty sure he even _saw_ the breakup that one night in the park. Or maybe it was some sort of confrontation after the fact. Either way, he had a hunch, and he was right, and he felt like a total asshole for reminding Hinata of what he had probably spent a long time trying to forget. 

Kageyama listens to the way Hinata breathes, in and out in long sighs; he’s a mouth breather, Kageyama can tell with the little sigh that happens when he exhales.

Kageyama looks down at his desk, where books and papers on The Color Effect are scattered all over. It doesn’t make any sense, the way his colors have started popping up. He knows that suicidal thoughts and near-death experiences can cause you to see colors, but they don’t leave lasting effects. Pills too, he remembers. Drugs can stimulate the color response somehow. He should call his doctor, ask if his prescription has weird side effects or something-

Hinata sighs in his sleep, and Kageyama freezes. He waits to make sure he hasn’t woken him, and quietly gathers the papers into a pile. He’ll call his doctor, schedule an appointment and maybe get a different prescription. He’ll need to save up, maybe turn off the heat, or something.

He walks over to the thermostat, and moves to turn it down. Then he stops. 

It really is cold, even when he has the heat on. And Hinata’s here. The last thing Kageyama wants is to get him sick. Kageyama sighs, grabs a blanket from the linen closet, and opens his bedroom door, shutting off the lamp on his way out. The only thing he can hear are the soft pads of his feet on the wood floor as he makes his way to the couch.

He’ll turn off the heat tomorrow, he decides.

He sits on the couch all night, channel surfing with the muted tv. He doesn't want to wake Hinata, and he can't really sleep. He’s too busy trying to remember if he’s taken his medication today at lunch that he doesn't even hear the door to his bedroom being opened. In the corner of his eye, he sees something lumpy and small waddle out of the room.

It comes into the light of the television, and Kageyama just stares. It’s Hinata, the covers of Kageyama’s bed pulled around him. He sits down on the couch, wiggles a little to get comfortable, and then sighs. Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, but Hinata talks before he can.

“Your room’s too creepy. Plus, I’m here to make sure you sleep, too.”

“I was going to sleep, dumbass,” Kageyama mumbles. 

“No, you weren't.” Hinata takes the remote out of Kageyama’s hand and clicks the tv off. Darkness falls over them, and Kageyama is all too aware of the way Hinata shifts a little closer before leaning his head on the armrest of the couch.

“Do you want me to leave, or-”

“Of course not, Bakageyama. I don't want the creepy ghosts that haunt your bedroom to kill you, then who’d give me free sushi?”

“That was one time. And it was a shitty roll, too, that's why we couldn't sell it.”

“Regardless,” Hinata says, succesfully shushing Kageyama and curling his feet up on the seat. His toes press against Kageyama’s leg, and he pushes his toes into the flesh of Kageyama’s thigh, as if poking him. “Now sleep.”

But he can’t, because he still feels weird about knowing something personal about Hinata, without giving something of himself, too.

“I have depression,” he whispers, and the words hang in the air. Kageyama wishes he could take them back. “So I kinda know how it feels, I guess. I’m not always sad, it’s like a feeling of displacement, so I know how it feels to be alone.” 

It feels better to let it out, rather than have Hinata find out by digging through his bathroom cabinet and seeing his prescriptions, or if he were to press play on his landline and hear the endless messages regarding prescription fill ups and therapist appointments. It’s too hard to explain, sometimes, but Kageyama thinks he did just fine.

Hinata doesn’t speak, just raises himself up, and puts his head on Kageyama’s shoulder instead.

|||

Kageyama wakes up and the world isn’t gray anymore.

He can see the color; the red converse that are two sizes too small and rest next to his sneakers. The yellow hoodie that lies on the floor of his kitchen, next to a pile of sweatshirts that are all either black or gray or blue. Hinata- who still has his head rested in the crook of Kageyama’s neck- is still sleeping, and Kageyama looks over at his hair, as orange and as bright as it ever was. 

His mouth goes dry.

Kageyama gently pushes Hinata off of him, replacing his shoulder with a pillow that fell to the floor. He stumbles over to the window. Leaning on his hands, Kageyama presses his forehead against the fogged glass and looks. He can see the vibrant colors of the city, the lit up buildings, the outrageously colorful outfits people wear on the street below him, and there are names, hundreds of them, appearing in his mind. He can name every different shade of blue and purple, from lavender to mulberry, navy to teal. Kageyama is seeing every color there is to see and it can only mean one thing.

He most certainly will die today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides forever* because I cannot believe how I wrote that shit about Hinata thinking about licking Kageyama I can never face my family again
> 
> (also I still need to write the very last part but that should be don't quickly? I hope?)


	3. shining and billiant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata wants to know what green is, wants to be able to trace the apparently red line that runs along the edge of Kageyama’s forearm, wants to kiss the pink circle on his wrist, but he can’t because all he sees is gray; different shades, yes, but gray all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Everything’s a risk. Not doing anything is a risk. It’s up to you."  
> \- Nicola Yoon, _Everything, Everything_
> 
> ((new chapter feat. headaches and idiots with big tourist glasses))

Cold.

That’s the first thing Hinata feels when he wakes up. He doesn’t really know where he is at first, his head muddled with that confusion of waking up in an unfamiliar place, but it washes away when he recognizes the white of Kageyama’s walls. He remembers the spill, the way he told Kageyama everything, and how Kageyama told him everything in return. Remembering puts a nice warmth in his chest, something that is untouched by the slight chill of the air.

“Kageyama?” Hinata calls. He can hear shuffling in another room, and winces when he hears a loud bang. Quietly, he gets off of the couch, rubbing a spot on his lower back that’s sore from sleeping upright. Kageyama was right, he should have moved back to the bed. Hinata’s stomach rumbles, and he says again into the empty air, “Hey, Kageyama? I don’t know what you’re doing, but-”

Kageyama comes running out of his room looking like literal hell. His hair is as wild as Hinata’s, all knotted and tangled and sticking up a bit on the sides. There’s toothpaste smudged in the corner of his lip, but the most puzzling thing of all are his arms. His sleeves are rolled up, and his arms are covered with lines and shapes, all of them various shades of gray darker than the lighter gray of his skin. He runs up to Hinata, yanking his arm up and pushing the sleeve of the sweatshirt up so it bunches at Hinata’s elbows. Hinata tries to pull his arm back, opening his mouth to protest when suddenly Kageyama draws a thick line of marker down his arm.

“Kageyama! What the hell?!”

“Yellow. Hinata, do you see yellow?” Kageyama asks, and Hinata’s face twists up into confusion. All he sees is a light gray against his colorless skin.

“No, it’s gray. What’s yellow?” he asks, and Kageyama curses, pushes down his sleeves and reaches up, groaning as he pulls his hair back down into his face. Hinata tilts his head, watching as Kageyama gulps, his tongue trace along his lower lip in a way that makes it hard for Hinata to stop staring.

“It’s a color,” he says eventually, and Hinata looks down at his arm again, and then gasps.

“Color! Kageyama, you must have met your soulmate!” he exclaims, and Kageyama shakes his head. Hinata pushes Kageyama’s sleeve up again, where lines and scribbles of several different colors piled up on top of each other decorate his arm. He points to a big circle of light gray in the center of Kageyama’s wrist. “What’s that one?”

“Pink. It’s red, but lighter. And I didn’t meet my soulmate, I must be dying.”

“Red?” Hinata asks, and Kageyama points to a line of darker gray on his arm. “And think about it, Kageyama. There are hundreds of people who take the underground, who touch everything, who you bump into. You must’ve bumped into them yesterday! We have to find them, Kageyama!”

Kageyama is quiet, and Hinata looks up. He’s looking intensely at the different shades of gray that cover his skin, and for the first time, Hinata is struck with some kind of feeling. It grows out of his chest, thick and cold, replacing the warmth that was once there. He looks at Kageyama and wishes more than anything that he could be seeing colors right now. Hinata wants to know what yellow is, wants to be able to trace the apparently red line that runs along the edge of Kageyama’s forearm, wants to kiss the pink circle on his wrist, but he can’t because all he sees is gray; different shades, yes, but gray all the same.

Hinata vaguely realizes he’s jealous (of the colors, of whoever Kageyama’s soulmate is), and when he does, he pushes that thought into the back of his head and forces a smile.

“Do you really think so?” Kageyama finally asks, and he looks so serious that Hinata’s smile falls.

“Think what?”

“That they’re out there. My soul mate,” Kageyama says, and Hinata lets out a little laugh. Kageyama grimaces and looks away.

“Of course, Bakageyama. There is someone for everybody, you know,” Hinata says, and he stands up on his tippy toes to flick Kageyama’s cheek. He is snapped out of his mood immediately, snarling and lunging for Hinata.

“You little-”

“Besides,” Hinata says while ducking underneath Kageyama’s arm. He grabs it instead, and traces the line that Kageyama called red up to his elbow as he finishes, “I’m going to help you find them.” 

|||

Kageyama doesn’t fight with Hinata, just accepts the fact that he’s stuck with the dumbass for the entire day until he inevitably dies or finds his soulmate or wanders too far away from them that his colorful world washes back into gray. 

Kageyama makes his coffee as Hinata eats way too many granola bars that can healthy, and before he can get his sweater on, he’s being pulled out the door ( _“It’s almost summer, you don’t need that_ ,” Hinata yells.) (Kageyama complains about being cold all the way to the station.)

While they walk and dodge through the city crowds, Hinata fills the silence between them and talks. It’s mostly about what he thinks Kageyama’s soulmate will be like (someone who can actually smile and has a cat), or how he can already picture their first date (a tragic occurrence that will leave everyone at the even scarred). Kageyama doesn't mind listening that much, because he spends his time looking at Hinata. His clothes are wrinkled from sleeping in them, and his hair as messy as it usually is (does he ever brush it?). Despite the messy appearance, there's something charming about it. 

Yesterday, Kageyama only saw Hinata wearing black jeans with a gray shirt. Now, he sees the navy blue of the denim, the way it's faded at the knees from too much wear, and the patch on one thigh of a red fabric to cover what must have been a hole or something. His shirt is yellow, with a giant picture of a cartoon brown bear frowning on the front. The only colorless thing about him is the black jacket tied around his waist, and Kageyama recognizes it as one of his own. With color, Hinata’s clothes fit his personality more, and Kageyama looks away when he realizes he’s been staring for too long.

Looking around is worse though; all the color is popping out and making his head pound. It’s not right. When you meet your soulmate, the color comes slowly, never all at once like it is now. Names are still popping into his head, and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting Hinata lead him through the city streets. Behind his shut eyes, he still sees the colors, swirls of moss green melting into a mustard yellow, squares of red becoming circles of blue. Kageyama feels like he’s being suffocated.

It's too bright, too much, and he just wants his life to go back to the washed grays because it hurts.

“Watch your step,” Hinata warns, and Kageyama opens his eyes. They're at the staircase leading to the underground. He walks down the steps, keeping his eyes on the cement to avoid the intensity of the color. It's strange, he never knew how many different shades of brown and black and gray went into the filth of the city concrete. His brain pounds against his skull, and he stops, pulls his hand from Hinata’s and presses his fingers to his temples. He rubs and rubs, but his head only hurts more.

“Kageyama?” 

Hinata has pulled him to the side of the staircase, where people pass by them. He looks worried, and Kageyama shuts his eyes.

“It's really bright,” he says, and Hinata nods. They wait there for a few minutes until Hinata pulls on Kageyama’s sleeve.

“Let's get on the train, okay?” He says, and Kageyama nods. 

On the train, they sit down. His head hurts so much that Kageyama thinks his brain is going to melt and ooze out of his ears, or something gore filled like that. Hinata sits next to him, keeps talking as Kageyama closes his eyes and leans over to put his head in his hands. He can feel the warmth of Hinata’s thigh against his, the way his arm keeps brushing Kageyama’s side as he talks with animated gestures. Kageyama can barely feel anything, but he forces himself to focus on those touches to keep himself from passing out. He forces himself to feel the warmth of Hinata’s arm, the softness of his skin, the weight of Hinata’s thigh pressed against his own, and soon, Kageyama's head isn't pounding as hard as it was. Now, it's just a soft pulse. Still hurts, makes him squint when they get above ground again, but it's better.

“C’mon, we’re gonna go downtown first,” Hinata says, leaving no room for objection. Not that Kageyama thinks he has the strength to argue.

They stick to small side streets rather than the main ones. It does help- it isn't as crowded as it would be- but once they're downtown, Kageyama can barely stand. He doesn't know where he’s going, only sees the ocean of color that surrounds him. He thinks Hinata notices this, because soon he’s being dragged by the wrist quickly through the streets.

Hinata pushes them into a shop, dragging him to the back and Kageyama’s opening his mouth to say that there's no way his soulmate- if he even has one- would be in a crappy, cheap tourist shop, when his vision suddenly turns a few shades darker.

Hinata’s looking at him expectantly, turning Kageyama around where an old mirror sits, and he looks. 

He’s wearing sunglasses, the cheap plastic kind with frames that depict Tokyo’s skyline. He looks stupid, feels like one of those people who wear those giant glasses on New Years in America with the huge numbers spread across their eyes. But they help, make the colors around him turn into darker, less vivid versions of themselves, and it doesn't hurt as much to look around. He looks down, and sees Hinata picking another pair off the rack before trying it on and turning around to face Kageyama with a smile on his face.

“TOKYO” read the frames, with dark glass in the Os and Hinata’s expecting eyes. He looks stupid, so stupid that Kageyama can't help but laugh.

“You look like an idiot,” he says, and he laughs some more, until he’s turning away and holding his stomach and coughing.

(Hinata feels something flip inside of him, and all the blood in his body pumps fast through him. Hearing Kageyama laugh makes him feel like he can run marathons, because his smile is crooked but perfect and his laugh is loud and obnoxious but it's _Kageyama’s laugh_ and that fact alone makes him want to hear it over and over again.)

Hinata just stares, amazed and frozen until he starts laughing too, and soon he's laughing so hard he starts to snort, and they both laugh over that, too. It feels good, the way Kageyama’s stomach aches at the sides and how he can’t walk quite right after. His steps feel a bit lighter.

They leave the tourist shop, both wearing their tourist sunglasses. Hinata knows he doesn't need them- his world is already dark enough as it is- but he thinks it helps a little bit, because while they walk down the street, he catches Kageyama looking at him, shaking his head and trying to hide his smile. Hinata knows they work on Kageyama, because he doesn't look like he’s in pain anymore. He looks perfectly fine, and that makes Hinata feel perfectly fine too.

They walk downtown, watching different street performers and Hinata spends almost all of his money by putting it in this one girl's jar after she performs tricks with a few crows. She thanks him, and a crow jumps into his shoulder, presses it's feathery head into his cheek, and then flies away, leaving Hinata jumping up and down and pulling on Kageyama’s sleeve yelling _“did you see that?!”_

They walk all around, entering various shops and stopping by different food stands until the owners yell at them for taking too many free samples. The free samples don't really fill them up, and soon Kageyama is digging into his pocket to pay for a plate full of meat buns that Hinata is already grabbing and biting into. 

The man looks at the glasses on Hinata’s head, then at Kageyama’s. 

“Colors too bright?” He asks, and Kageyama nods, putting his change into his pocket. “Believe me, after I got my colors, I couldn't leave the house for a week. It's rare, to get them all at one. Means the bond is especially strong between your souls.”

Kageyama nods, turning around and watching Hinata stand up on a bench and wave him over. His cheeks are puffed out, filled with the giant bites he takes out of the meat bun. Kageyama turns around to thank the man, who smiles and wiggles his eyebrows in a way that has Kageyama’s cheeks turning bright red and stumbling back to where Hinata sits.

“What was that all about?” He asks, mouth still full of rice and pork. Kageyama clicks his tongue and grabs Hinata’s chin to close his mouth.

“Don't talk with your mouth full, stupid.”

Hinata just sticks out his tongue, and Kageyama ignores him for the rest of the meal.

(It's harder than it should be. Everything about Hinata screams attention, makes him want to watch and admire, take in all the little quirks about him.)

“Hey, do you, like, feel them?” Hinata asks while they're eating. This catches Kageyama’s attention, who looks back at Hinata raises his eyebrows. Hinata flushes and adds, “Your soulmate. Like, can you tell where they are?”

Kageyama shakes his head. “I’m not a compass. There isn't anything inside of me that just… knows.”

“Oh,” Hinata says. He sounds disappointed, almost. “It's gonna be really hard to find them then.”

“Well it's not like I can find them in one day,” Kageyama snorts.

“You did yesterday. So yes, you can.”

“Hinata, we can't search all of Tokyo. They might be gone for all we know,” Kageyama reasons, but Hinata isn't paying attention. He’s staring right at Kageyama with an odd expression on his face, one that makes it seem that he’s either thinking too hard or he’s just heard something really, really confusing. It's the expression where his eyebrows knit together and his head tilts and one eye narrows. 

It's an expression that makes Kageyama’s heart race.

Kageyama stares right back, and Hinata leans in a little, raises his hand and let's it linger in the air before his eyes drop down to it and he pulls it back in his own lap. Kageyama doesn't say anything.

“C’mon, we haven't searched everywhere,” Hinata eventually says, and Kageyama just nods. He gets up and throws out their trash, and when they walk down city streets, each time Hinata asking if he thinks they're closer to his soul mate, Kageyama lies and pretends he doesn't notice the extra space Hinata puts between them.

|||

“Hinata, it's been three hours. They aren't here let's just _go_ -”

“Wait.” Hinata stops right in front of Kageyama, causing him to bump into him from behind. “What’s that?” 

He points to where a crowd of people are gathered, all of them in a big clump that looks to be the line of something. There are policemen, too, starting to set up roadblocks and directing traffic away from the city block. Hung between two tall buildings is a banner, and Kageyama reads it outloud.

“Sol Festival. It’s the first day of summer already, I guess,” Kageyama says. “Doesn't make any sense, it's still cold as shit and-” 

Suddenly, Hinata is jumping up and down, grabbing Kageyama’s arm with both of his hands and yanking him in the direction of the line that was getting longer every second.

“They must be here, Kageyama! You’ll find your soulmate here, tonight,” He exclaims, and Kageyama shakes his head a little.

“Or I’ll die,” he adds, and Hinata frowns. He pinches his arm.

“Either way, you’ll die partying, which sounds pretty cool to me.”

They wait in line with the crowd. The festival doesn’t start until the sun starts to set, which is only in about twenty minutes, and among the line there are volunteers handing out plastic flower necklaces and head bands (which Hinata wears proudly). Kageyama feels a little underdressed, or maybe overdressed, depending on how you look at it. Everyone around him that’s his age are wearing clothing that show off as much skin as possible, covering their arms with glitter and drawing on each other. Eventually, Hinata gets hold of the marker, and demands Kageyama to take off his sweatshirt so he can draw on him.

“There’s no room, see?” Kageyama says, once his sweatshirt is off and tied around his waist. It’s true, both his arm are covered with colored marker from his freakout earlier in the morning, and he feels a little weird holding them both out in the open where everyone can see. Hinata hums, tilts his head and puts on that face again, the one that has Kageyama turning away with a blush before he’s smiling wide and announcing he has an idea.

That’s how Kageyama ends up sitting down on a wall ledge in line while Hinata hovers above him, using his marker (which Kageyama told him was orange) to draw cat whiskers on Kageyama’s cheeks. It’s hard for Kageyama to keep his breathing at a normal pace, because with Hinata this close, his heart is racing. All the blood is rushing to where Hinata’s head rests, curled over Kageyama’s cheek, his thumb right under the outer corner of Kageyama’s eye. It doesn’t help that he has his focusing face on, and how all Kageyama can focus on is the edge of Hinata’s tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Finished,” Hinata announces, and he pushes himself away from the wall and Kageyama before handing him the marker. “Now draw on me. And so help you god, if you draw a penis on my face I will kill you, Kageyama.”

Kageyama draws what he intends to be a volleyball, along with a drawing of a dog that would have been ten times better if it had been drawn by a two year old. Hinata doesn’t say anything though, just smiles and passes the marker down the line, all the while proudly showing off the drawings on his biceps. Kageyama feels a little bit of pride, at that.

When the sun starts to set, the festival opens. People are throwing glitter and confetti in the air as Hinata and Kageyama pass through the entrance, and it falls like rain. Hinata laughs, tries to shake the glitter out of his hair, but it's impossible. It stays, shining bright and reflecting the lights that hang off of balconies and trees and light poles. He looks almost magical, with the way his skin and hair glimmers when Kageyama looks at him. 

They walk around the festival. There are activity booths around, and Hinata pulls them up to each and every one, even the ones designed for the little kids (they had to leave the beaded bracelet one before they finished due to how Kageyama kept cursing whenever he couldn't get a bead on the string and it was starting to catch the attention of all the mothers). 

Pretty soon, Hinata has a head full of glitter and Kageyama has a flower crown on top of his own, courtesy of Hinata. They both have cheap beaded necklaces around their necks, and Kageyama feels a bit more comfortable with showing off his arms full of color. Finally, as the sun begins to truly set, setting the sky aflame with almost every color Kageyama loves, everyone starts to gather in the center of the festival. Everyone has blankets spread on the grass, sitting on them and some even bringing out food. Hinata grabs hold of Kageyama’s arm (so they don't get separated, he says) and brings them through the crowd until they break away and sit in the corner of the park. The sky is clear, and a group of teenagers are lighting sparklers and waving them around in the air as the sun starts to dip under the city skyline.

“Here, take them off now. It's dark anyways,” Hinata says, and he reaches up and removed Kageyama’s glasses. He blinks as his vision adjusts. The sky is even more beautiful without the darkness of the sunglasses, and Kageyama vaguely remembers being a teenager and staring up at the sun sets at home, only seeing dark shades of gray fade into complete blackness. It wasn't pretty back then, but it is now.

It's here where Kageyama realizes that he has not found his soulmate today, and his colors are brighter than ever. 

He is going to die.

Kageyama is sure of it. So sure, in fact, the he leans over and whispers the fact into Hinata’s ear. It's too loud, though, with everyone laughing and cheering and counting down until summer. Hinata looks at him, his face twisted up into confusion, and Kageyama finds it really hard to look away. His colors are bright and he can name every single shade of amber and gold and yellow that make up Hinata’s eyes, and the way the sparklers make them shine in a way that is transfixing. 

The sun is almost gone, and Kageyama doesn’t think he can say it again, with the way the colors around him keep getting brighter. Hinata keeps staring, and for some reason, Kageyama feels like he’s drifting away. The sounds of the festival are still there, but muted. Kageyama thinks he’s underwater, because he can see everything; the way Hinata’s hair is covered in glitter, the colored lights strewn over balconies that make orange turn into the colors of honey and cinnamon and rust and ember.

The sun sets, and the sparklers die, and Kageyama kisses Hinata.

(And Kageyama realizes that with Hinata’s mouth pressed against his, so warm and solid it’s like he can almost taste the color of his tongue and lips. Kageyama thinks that if he were to die, he wouldn’t mind that much.)

When Hinata pulls back after a few seconds, he still has that confused look on his face (Kageyama wants to kiss it right off him, the bastard).

“You look so dark and scary, Kageyama. That isn't how you’re supposed to look after you kiss someone. You smile, and why is your face so… pink?”

Everything comes out all at once, words pouring out of Hinata’s mouth and Kageyama is about to remind Hinata that there is a reason he doesn't smile when he is leaping up and gasping. Hinata points, amazed, at all the colored lights and Kageyama is slowly starting to understand, he thinks.

“Holy shit. That's red, Kageyama. And that’s green! And purple and orange and blue and-”

Hinata bends down and kisses Kageyama again, and Kageyama can feel them on his lips, the colors as Hinata speaks against his mouth, different shades and hues until Kageyama can paint an entire picture in his head. He pulls away, and Hinata grabs Kageyama’s arm, smiling so wide Kageyama worries that his face might crack, and names every scribble of marker and circle of pen that he had inked on his skin.

And when everyone is leaving the festival, when Kageyama sees the colorful lights being shut off, and the sparkler holding teens walking away, Hinata looks at Kageyama and raises his arm to his mouth. He pushes his lips into the pink circle, traces them up and follows the red line until his nose is brushing up against the crook of Kageyama’s elbow. He bites the skin gently, pulling away and smiling.

“I wanted to do that all day, but I didn't know how to follow the red when all I saw was gray,” he explains quietly, and Kageyama just kisses him again, because that's all that’s on his mind right now; just kissing Hinata and feeling his fingertips against the lines of color painted on his arm, now seen by the both of them.

It's dark, but through Hinata’s eyes, the world has finally, and wonderfully, brightened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was shorter than the others but I'm hoping to make up for it with the last part!


	4. for one moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata looks around at all the color, at everything he’s been missing, and still remains in awe. Kageyama just looks at Hinata, and everything he now has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The thing is, being lonely is like walking in the cold without a coat. It’s uncomfortable, but eventually you go numb. Once you get used to not being lonely, though, the shock of going back is like having your down comforter yanked off at six o’clock on a Minnesota December morning."  
> \- Maggie Hall, _The Conspiracy of Us_
> 
> ((they kiss!! a lot!!! wowza!!))

The entire way home, Hinata is kissing colors into Kageyama’s mouth.

“I like blue. Dark blue. Your eyes are dark blue, you know,” he whispers as they head down the stairs of the underground. Hinata is always one step behind Kageyama, leaning over so he can speak right into his ear. Kageyama thinks everyone around them can hear his heart beating, loud and fast, and everything seems more vibrant.

(As if that’s possible; as if his vision can get any more brighter than it already is.)

“There’s probably a better word for it, though. Navy? No, it's like a gray kind of blue. Does that make sense?” Hinata continues. Kageyama looks at him and just kisses him quickly while scanning his transit card and pushing them both through the sliding gate. Hinata pulls away and laughs while he says, “You have to let me speak. Also, both of us going through the gate is illegal. One payment equals one person, idiot.”

“Call me that one more time and I'll show you how bright your colors can get,” Kageyama grumbles. Hinata only smiles and raises his eyebrows. He leans up close, on his tip toes, and whispers into Kageyama’s ear.

“You know there are two meanings to that, right?” 

Kageyama goes red and Hinata laughs, half because he thinks what he said was pretty funny, and half because seeing Kageyama embarrassed is the cutest thing he could ever look at; red cheeks, eyes averted, and bottom lips pushed out a little in a small pout that Hinata wants to kiss. He does, and then he pushes his head into Kageyama’s shoulder as they wait at the station. They stay like that until the train comes, and then it's pushing and dodging all the people to stand comfortably in the train. Then, it's standing together some more. 

They look weird, Kageyama knows, because there is glitter and confetti all over them and Kageyama still has the cat whiskers on his face, and his forearms are still painted with marker and ink, but he doesn't think he really minds the way people stare anymore.

As the train moves through its maze of tunnels, Hinata keeps his head on Kageyama’s shoulder and speaks something into his jacket. Kageyama lowers his head to hear him.

“What’d you say?” Kageyama asks.

“I said,” Hinata repeats, “being soulmates is like, a really big deal, you know?”

Kageyama nods and says, “I know.” He tugs on a lock of Hinata’s hair, twirls orange strands between his fingers and watches the glitter and confetti rub off on his fingers. “But we don't have to focus on that; it's too big of a picture, anyway. We both got our colors, and you’re okay to be around, I guess.” He rests his cheek on the top of Hinata’s head.

“You guess,” Hinata grumbles, but he laughs a little. He can feel Kageyama laugh too, with the way his chest jumps up and down slightly.

“Yeah. Plus, soulmates are overrated. It's for old people,” Kageyama finishes.

Hinata snorts and says, “You'll be old one day too, you know.”

“I know. And you'll be stuck with me,” Kageyama says, and Hinata groans.

“Ew, old Kageyama,” he whines, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust, and he pushes his forehead into Kageyama’s shoulder. They don't speak for the rest of the ride, but neither of them cares; they don't really need words, anyways. Hinata can read what Kageyama means with the way he keeps his cheek on his head, and Kageyama understands when Hinata loosely holds Kageyama’s hands, their fingers entangled in a messy way and dangling at their sides. Hinata looks around at all the color, at everything he’s been missing, and still remains in awe. Kageyama just looks at Hinata, at everything he now has. 

They both can finally see.

As they walk above on the surface again, Hinata feels his nerves buzzing. He keeps brushing his arms against Kageyama, but he doesn't grab his hand, because it’s most definitely sweaty and gross. Kageyama must think the same of his own hand, because he settles for just being near Hinata. Which is nice, Hinata finds, because being near Kageyama still has that charm to it, that feeling that spreads in him and makes him happy. Maybe it's the soulmate thing, but Hinata kind of hopes it's just a feeling between them, and not a side affect of everything.

“My roommate must think I'm dead,” Hinata says, and Kageyama shrugs.

“They must be rejoicing then,” he mumbles. Hinata punches his shoulder.

The walk back to Kageyama’s apartment is one that contains fighting and yelling and an old woman coming out of her shop to yell at the two for making too much noise. It also contains mumbled apologies and a few kisses that last barely a second, but are worthwhile anyways. The steps up to Kageyama’s apartment are a bit challenging, with Kageyama trying to walk backwards and leaning down as Hinata attempts to keep their lips together.

(It doesn't work out. Kageyama stumbles and falls and Hinata laughs until he trips over Kageyama’s foot and they're both laughing with their noses bumping on the staircase until someone yet again yells at them for being too loud.)

They get to the door of Kageyama’s apartment relatively unharmed- save for the bruises from the staircase incident. Kageyama fumbles with his keys, digging into his pockets with anticipating hands until they fall to the ground. Hinata is happy to help, ducks down and swipes them away before Kageyama can reach them and plants himself right in front of the door.

It's a tight squeeze. The hallways aren't that spacious to begin with, and Kageyama’s apartment is right at the end, which means Hinata has his back pressed against the door and his chest brushing against Kageyama’s. It isn't that comfortable either; Hinata can't place his feet anywhere except going up on his toes a little, and the door handle is pressing right into his side. Kageyama is glaring at him, leaning closer into his space and Hinata grins.

“Keys, Hinata,” he demands, and Hinata grips them in his hands that are folded behind his back. 

“Kiss,” he responds, and Kageyama obeys. He presses his lips against Hinata’s and then pulls back; he doesn't get far. Hinata grabs the fabric of his shirt and tugs him down, pushing his mouth against Kageyama’s in a way that has Kageyama stepping back a little. He can feel Hinata against him, the movements of his chest against his own, his hands bunched up in the fabric of his shirt, his mouth opening before licking into Kageyama’s.

Kageyama knows to shut his eyes. He can feel his heart beating so fast in his chest he’s amazed he isn't having a heart attack right now. All he can really focus on is Hinata’s tongue and how warm his mouth is and how he’s never kissed like quite like this before. Yeah, he’s been kissed, had a few relationships that contained just about everything Kageyama thinks he needs experience wise, but he has never been kissed like Hinata is kissing him right now. He can taste his tongue, the way it sometimes brushes against his, but it’s the way his whole body is involved, that has Kageyama grabbing him closer. His back arches a little, his chest pushing up into Kageyama’s, and Kageyama can _feel_ Hinata’s smile.

Kageyama puts his hands on Hinata’s waist because he doesn't really know what to do with them, and he can feel Hinata’s arms fold loosely around his neck. He’s sure there’s spit or something on his chin and around his mouth, and he doesn't know if it's his or Hinata’s, but he doesn’t let it bother him. The keys dangle from Hinata’s fingers, scratching the skin of Kageyama’s neck and Kageyama runs a hand up Hinata’s side and over his shoulder, fingertips brushing against his arm until he reaches behind him and grabs the keys from Hinata.

Hinata doesn't really care, just laughs into his mouth (Kageyama can feel his breath in his mouth) and breaks apart from him. He stays close, though, and steps a bit to the side with a victorious grin to let Kageyama unlock his door.

“You're such a dumbass,” Kageyama says as he pushes his door open. Hinata just snickers, pushes Kageyama inside and shuts the door behind him.

“That was great,” he says, and he takes Kageyama’s silence as an agreement. Kageyama stands in the little hallway, looking all around before keeping his gaze on Hinata. Hinata stares back, takes his time in kicking off his shoes and laying them next to Kageyama’s and locking the door of Kageyama’s apartment before he’s on him again, smiling into his mouth and kissing him like the way he did pressed against the door outside.

It becomes obvious that the hallways aren’t a good choice to passionately make out soon enough. The small hallway can barely fit Kageyama to begin with with, and now being preoccupied with keeping their mouths together, having to tug Hinata along into a more open area is pretty difficult. Kageyama settles for walking backwards and using one hand to run against the wall so he doesn't trip and fall backwards and possibly crack his head open and die. That would suck, especially because it would mean Hinata wasn't his soulmate and he would be dying within the next twenty-four hours, too and-

Kageyama stops thinking.

They leave the hallway, and Kageyama pulls away. Hinata doesn't let it stop him, just kisses the line of Kageyama’s jaw and mouths at the hollow of his neck. 

“Wait, do you need anything? Food or water or something?” He asks, and Hinata laughs into his neck.

“No, I'm good,” he says, hands pushing Kageyama’s sweatshirt off his shoulders and arms until it hits the ground. He steps away a little with a smirk and asks, “Do you need anything?”

Kageyama just shakes his head, and Hinata smiles and says, “Then we’re good, right?” 

This time, Kageyama nods and agrees, says yes, they're fine, perfectly good and taken care of and then he kisses him to prove it.

“Wait,” Hinata mumbles against his lips, and pulls away for a second. Hinata licks his thumb, and rubs the marker ink off of Kageyama’s face, which Kageyama is thankful for, because if they do have sex tonight, Kageyama really doesn't want to do it with fucking cat whiskers on his face.

“Better,” Hinata whispers, and he stands up on his toes to kiss Kageyama’s now marker free nose.

It continues like that. They kiss, and every one has Kageyama’s head spinning and his heart pulsing loud in his ears. They walk together to the bedroom, laughing and smiling and kissing and Kageyama loves it. He touches the pink (apricot, he thinks) of Hinata’s chest, lets Hinata tangle up his hair and whisper in his ear and bite his neck. He knows he’ll have to hide them, but honestly, it’s nice to have Hinata’s mouth anywhere on him.

When Hinata slips his hand down the front of Kageyama’s pants, Kageyama knows for sure he never wants to see the color gray again. Hinata sits across from him on his heels, and Kageyama makes a weird noise, something mixed with a chuckle and a groan, because of course Hinata has no patience. 

“We probably shouldn’t actually do all of it tonight,” Kageyama says as he works on the button and zipper of Hinata’s jeans. Hinata hums, presses his palm against Kageyama and loosely grabs his cock, running his hand up and down slowly.

“I agree, best to take things slow. Well, after tonight. You know what I mean,” he finishes, and Kageyama rolls his eyes while thrusting into Hinata’s hand. Kageyama quickly pulls down Hinata’s jeans, and they bunch down at his knees. Kageyama doesn’t care, because it’s honestly been too long since he’s been touched by anyone other than himself, and even then, his medication usually killed whatever sex drive he had left. Tonight though, he was already feeling heat pooling in his gut and knew he probably wouldn’t have the best performance, and the best he could do is make Hinata finish as soon as he does.

(Hinata breathes in his ear during the entire thing, whispering things that are supposed to be words but are really just weird noises that Kageyama knows he’ll probably make fun of later. And when they finish, Hinata pushes his face into Kageyama’s neck and just stays there. Kageyama can feel some sweat drip down his back, and can feel the dampness in Hinata’s breath where it hits his neck. Hinata finally raises himself up, wobbling a little bit, and pulls his hand from Kageyama’s sweatpants. His hand is messy- so is Kageyama’s- but Hinata just looks at Kageyama and actually licks it, gathers a little spot of Kageyama’s cum and laughs loudly when Kageyama just _stares_.)

The clothes go in the wash, and Hinata wears the smallest clothes Kageyama can find in his drawers, which aren’t a big help, because the shirt Hinata wears still reaches his thighs, and the neck hole is a little too big, but Hinata says it’s perfect sleepwear for the summer, so Kageyama doesn’t feel that bad.

Besides, it’s kinda cute to see Hinata in something that kinda looks like a dress, though Kageyama would never tell Hinata that.

Right as Kageyama is climbing into bed, Hinata declares he’s hungry, which means five minutes of complaining and hearing weird rumbles from his stomach until Kageyama is finally getting out of bed to make them something to eat. 

“It’s one in the morning,” Kageyama says as he puts leftover curry into the microwave. Hinata just shrugs, and his stomach growls again as if it’s answering. Kageyama sighs, and sits across from Hinata as he sings under his breath- something about waiting for food in the microwave- until the beep is heard. 

After Hinata eats, then they drag themselves back to bed. It’s a bit hard for the both of them to fit on the futon on the floor, but they manage, with Hinata curled up on his side and Kageyama laying on his back. A minute passes until Hinata moves Kageyama’s arm and rests his head on his bicep, one leg folding over Kageyama's, and he is finally comfortable. Kageyama says nothing about the way his arm cramps up and tingles, just let’s Hinata fall asleep, and then he closes his eyes.

(When they wake up, Hinata is smiling at him, too bright and too colorful, and Kageyama is still waking up as hinata rolls on top of him, rolling his hips and grinning and telling Kageyama that he changed his mind about going slow. Kageyama, though he doesn’t outwardly say it, agrees.)

|||

Some mornings are still gray and dull, but most are not. Kageyama still wakes up cold, either from the AC or from the frozen winter air, but whenever he can feel the chill settling on his skin, he just rolls over and grabs Hinata, who lays right next to him, sprawled out on a mattress that probably cost more than it was worth.

The potted plant is once again living and now has friends, all of the pots and flower buds and the single cactus squished on the windowsill. 

And yeah, Kageyama still has that big knot in his chest, sometimes. Sometimes his color will wash out a bit, but then he’ll come home from work and Hinata will be home from his classes and his world brightens a little bit. It’s still there, he’s just better at handling it, now.

The only real thing Kageyama still enjoys from his life before Hinata is the train. He enjoys other things, too, like Hinata’s smile, the color orange, and watching volleyball games; but the train is different. He still walks to the train station every day, still wears his mostly black clothing with the occasional dark blue or deep maroon, only now he’s joined with an annoying redhead who is not a morning person despite what they claim, and holds his hand everywhere and makes a lot of things difficult, but still warms Kageyama’s heart.

They still don’t like to think of the soulmate thing. It’s too big, too overwhelming, to think of the whole system and how they have to be perfect for eachother; they are, in their own way. Kageyama just thinks that he would have found Hinata eventually, which has both pros and cons, because yeah, he gets to experience life with color (and pretty good sex), but he’s also stuck with Hinata, which is pretty exhausting.

(Hinata hits him when he says this and it takes about a million apologies, five kisses, and two meat buns for Kageyama to be forgiven.)

(See? Exhausting.)

(“I love you, I didn’t mean it. Shouyou, I am not buying you another meatbun, it was a joke!”)

The fact is that Hinata remains, small and constantly smiling and usually trying to pick a fight, and always, always brightening up Kageyama’s day, both metaphorically and literally. He watches when Kageyama does almost anything, eyes wide with thousands of colors dancing around, and Kageyama would be lying if he didn’t do the same whenever Hinata did something. Hinata is the face he sees when he wakes up, tired and groggy and annoying, and the face he sees before he goes to sleep, still tired, still annoying, but charming. And Kageyama knows, as he thinks over the past year in his bed, that he is happy he met the crying boy on the train.

The sun rises in the window, and Hinata pokes him with his toes, yelling at him to go to sleep, and Kageyama listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about the last part being longer because it was the shortest part of all and I am sorry but YAY IT'S DONE!  
> Thank you guys for all the super nice comments (I fucking screamed when i read them no joke).
> 
> I've never been good at staying with stuff and I usually write things and then realize that I suck and then delete them, so it was kinda hard to continue this one, especially since I didn't really know what I was doing. But i have other ideas! And I'm gonna try to write them out and figure it all out, but until then, goodbye!


End file.
